


Fill Me Up

by Clearfear



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 2018 Daredevil Secret Santa Gift Exchange, Angst, But Mostly Hurt, Daredevilbingo, F/M, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, S3 spoilers, Whump, karedevil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17151725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clearfear/pseuds/Clearfear
Summary: My gift to @SoulFireInc for the Daredevil Secret Santa! The prompt was the song Fill Me Up by Shawn Colvin—story inspired by it. Also covers my Daredevil bingo prompt, “huddling for warmth”.“It’s alright, Matt, okay? Everything’s alright.” It’s not, she knows it’s not. Things couldn’t ever be the way they were again, were shattered into millions of razor-sharp pieces that sliced into your skin when you tried to pick them up.





	Fill Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoulfireInc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulfireInc/gifts).



> For @SoulfireInc! I hope it’s okay...ended up being a little angstier than I intended, but seeing as they _mostly_ fixed things up in the finale, I think it’s alright.

Matt’s jolted so hard when the taxi hits the water, he bites his lip. The all-too-familiar taste of blood fills his mouth. Sound of water’s everywhere, the car’s filling up, fast. Too fast. He forces himself to breathe deeply before scrabbling at the half-submerged door, pounding at the windows that refuse to break. Within seconds the car’s under, starting to sink. His own panicked heartbeat, rushing water, and the taste of the Hudson are the only things left. The door just _won’t budge,_ and he feels like he’s truly blind underwater: he has to feel desperately for a way to unlock the door, has to take his time when he’s well aware that _time is running out._ His lungs are starting to ache when he realizes there’s no way to unlock it here, maybe he can squeeze through the window in the middle, find a way there…? _There’s no time, no time._ Raw fear sends a pit into his stomach; he’s going to die here, trapped in a metal box, choking on filthy water. _No._ He grits his teeth, and _kicks_ the damn door as hard as he can. A hazy feeling of hope sparks in him at the sound of metal groaning in protest, and he does it again. And again. And again until the door’s so loose, all it takes is _one more_ kick to break it. Matt’s head is swimming by the time he pushes against the loose door, water pushing back just as hard, it seems. But he gets it open. Something’s telling him to go _up._ Up’s where he needs to be, not here, floating and weightless…it’d be relaxing, if he could _breathe._ If the pain in his chest would lessen even a little bit. If there wasn’t something burning at him, something he _needs to do._ So he kicks away from the car, paddles towards what he thinks is up. 

Gasping is the first noise that registers with Matt. He realizes it’s him, drawing in crystal sharp breaths that feel just as painful against his cracked ribs as they do amazing to his oxygen-deprived lungs and brain. Wind whips across the water, stings his face, and Matt just has to stay there for a few minutes, treads water clumsily and takes desperate gulps of air before he can try and navigate to shore. The noises are amplified and _wrong_ on the water and it confuses his already muddled mind far too much, but he manages it. He doesn’t think he can get up and find his way home once he drags himself up onto dryer land. The water had buoyed him, supported him as he swam, and he was sure it wasn’t as cold in there as it was out here. Here, he’s _cold,_ and _heavy,_ and _hurting._ But he gets back up, just like he always does. Always gets back up, even when he shouldn’t. 

The walk home is torture. Everything’s shrouded in fog, every thought jumbled into barely comprehensible nonsense. He can’t stop shivering, tensing up at every slight breeze. Matt has to stop a couple times, to check that he’s still stumbling in the right direction. Stays in the alleys, reluctantly takes to the rooftops when he nears his building, every muscle screaming in agony, bruises flaring with a new fury. His fingers are numb as he staggers into the apartment, and he has to use the wall to guide him to the stairs. He slips on his way down, the clatter registering dimly to his ears. Matt picks his way back to his feet, lurches forward on autopilot. Strips the wet, clingy, unwanted shirt off, and collapses. His senses start to fade, but the cold does with it, and that’s not so bad. 

 

Karen doesn’t know why she’s coming back here. _I said I was done with him._ But she’s back, despite the rational part of her saying _he’s done with you, too._ She unlocks the door and swings it open a little harder than she needs to. The place is bathed in gentle green light, and it’s freezing as always. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and turns away. It’s time to let it go. Let Matt go. She’s about to leave, takes a step out the door when the sound of a low moan alerts her that her presence isn’t the only one. Within a heartbeat, she’s digging into her purse for the gun, breath caught in her throat. Fear comes too easily for her these days. But when she whips around to face the threat, it’s _Matt._ Sprawled across the hardwood floor, half-dressed and shivering. Karen calls his name, and how can she be angry at him, now, shivering and half-conscious on the floor? But she is. She’s _pissed_ as she kneels by his side, as she says his name again. He’s cold to the touch and soaking wet. Matt groans, unfocused eyes flickering open at her tap and flailing a fist at her weakly.  
And maybe she’s softened a little bit when she murmurs, “Matt, it’s me, it’s Karen.” His only response is to shiver again and whine something that she can’t quite make out. Worry sets to squirming in her stomach. _I should get him to bed, at least._

He doesn’t fight when she strips the rest of his wet clothes off, too scared to be embarrassed, and it’s not something reassuring. It’s a battle that she almost loses to get him to his bed, out of breath as she hurries to tug the blankets over him. Karen wants to leave him like that; she’s done more than enough for him, after all. But she just…can’t. Can’t do it, no matter how much she _knows_ she shouldn’t. So she slips her shoes and her coat off, slides under the covers and wraps her arms around Matt. _Fuck, he’s icy._ She presses herself against his bare chest, suppressing a shiver of her own. Karen doesn’t mean to close her eyes, doesn’t mean to listen to Matt’s shuddering breaths with a sense of wonder, because he’s _back._ He isn’t buried under Midland Circle, he’s shivering against her, cold and bruised and unconscious but _alive._ She doesn’t mean to fall asleep, the easiest she’s fallen asleep in months. 

 

A sharp intake of breath is what wakes her. Matt’s up, panting and shivering, trying to kick the covers back. Or maybe he’s still in a fight somewhere, Karen thinks bitterly. It’s still dark out. Can’t tell what time it is.  
“Matt,” she hisses, and he freezes at the sound of her voice. 

“Ka…Karen?” His voice comes out in a harsh rasp. 

“I’m here.” She touches his arm reassuringly, can’t make out his expression in the dark. “We’re in your apartment.” 

“Karen,” Matt repeats, and he sounds lost. He stills, heaving breaths of air beginning to slow now that he knows where he is. She bites her lip and takes his hand, presses it against her chest, against her heartbeat. She’s not expecting it when he shakes again and sobs, “Karen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She nods, but he won’t quit. Won’t stop apologizing, over and over, even when she tells him to stop, when she holds him and runs her fingers through his hair gently. 

“It’s alright, Matt, okay? Everything’s alright.” It’s not, she knows it’s not. Things couldn’t ever be the way they were again, were shattered into millions of razor-sharp pieces that sliced into your skin when you tried to pick them up. His skin’s still colder than she’d like, but he’s definitely warming up. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, a broken record. Tries to even his breathing. Fails. He’s been broken and stripped bare in her arms, shaking like a leaf. The sound of his wheezing and the defeated way he keeps up the constant stream of “sorry, Karen”’s is what makes her curl closer to him and finally whisper, “I forgive you, Matt. Okay? Just go back to sleep.” The words are quiet, leave an echoing hollowness inside her, and she herself can’t tell if they’re true or not. Whatever her heartbeat says, Matt quiets, shivers still wracking his thin frame. Maybe he’s too out of it to read her heartbeat. She half-hopes he is, hopes he doesn’t remember when he wakes up. Karen takes the moment of his stillness to pull the covers back over him, staying huddled under them with him. It’s too damn cold in here, and now she’s not tired anymore. She’s more alert than she’s been in a long time, mind racing a million miles an hour. The thoughts keep her awake until the cold light of dawn seeps through Matt’s window. She’s quiet as possible when she slides out from under the covers. The sudden chill leaves goosebumps racing over her skin. Wants to get out of there as fast as she can and dive back under at the same time. But she puts her shoes on because Matt’s made his choice, and it doesn’t include her. Creeps past the heap of his wet clothes, into the hallway and out the door because Matt’s _made his choice, and he’s made it clear he doesn’t have room for Karen there._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always!


End file.
